What is going on with you?" she says, shaking her head and pushing me away. "What's up with all the love and affection? I mean, you of all people, you of the eternal iPod-hoodie combo.

Life is still life. It’s still tough, complicated, and more than a little messy, with lessons to be learned, mistakes to be made, triumphs and disappointments to be had, and not every day is meant to be a party.

Explaining that I'm faced with a choice between being with the love of my life, or saving four lives that were never meant to end.

He looks at me, the light in his eyes fractures into millions of bits—a kaleidoscope of darkness that may never be fixed.

That's what true love is. It cannot be broken, it cannot be chipped away, it's eternal, everlasting, and it can weather any storm.

What we think about, what we concentrate on, will always, always, be reflected on the outside.

Everything just feels so empty without her. She was more a parent to me than my birth parents were. She took me in, fed, dressed me, but most importantly, she treated me with respect. She taught me that my abilities were nothing to be ashamed of, nothing I should try so hard to deny. She convinced me that what I had was a gift-not a curse- and that I shouldn't let other people's narrow minds and fears determine how I love, what I do, or how I perceive myself in the world. She actually made me believe that in no way, shape, or form did their uninformed opinions make me a freak.